


i see the best of me inside your eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Oh god, Schmoop, THIS IS SO DOMESTIC, what did i write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:13:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I feel like this might be MTV show worthy,” Stiles says suddenly, and even at Derek’s exasperated look, adds, “This should be an episode of True Life. True Life: I’m Seventeen and Already Shopping for Curtains Because My Older Boyfriend Is a Moron.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i see the best of me inside your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/3353.html?thread=2466841#t2466841) prompt at the meme. Yeah, this probably isn't what they were going for, but.
> 
> Unbeta'd. This is so fluffy it will probably make you cry.

"Listen," Stiles starts, because while he's been cool with Derek thriving in the shell of a building he likes to call his house, there's only so many times a dude can take drywall falling on his head when he's making out with his super hot, "I'm-totally-a-werewolf-that-can-kick-your-ass" boyfriend. And Stiles is at wits end. "I don't care what you think we're doing tomorrow, but we're going shopping for some new drywall and maybe some paint, and possibly some curtains, too, because those black sheets that you're using now are just depressing and don't do anything to dispute your 'I'm totally creepy and will eat your children's brains for dinner' reputation around town."  
  
Stiles doesn't even have to look at Derek to know that Derek's glaring at him, because Stiles has just come to the conclusion that Derek is always glaring at him, even when they're in the middle of making out against Derek's ridiculously comfortable mattress. It's a gift that Stiles doesn't even know how Derek's posesses, but is actually irrevocably jealous of it.  
  
Stiles really needs to talk to Derek about priorities. And possibly house tending tips–it's no secret that Stiles has been watching those home improvement shows now more than ever. Probably because his boyfriend is somehow fit as fuck but still doesn't know how to properly use a hammer (not that Stiles really does _either_ , but hey, at least he tries, right?).  
  
"My house is fine," Derek says, petulantly, and–he can't honestly believe that, can he?  
  
Stiles looks up from where his head's currently pillowed on Derek's somehow-soft-but-hard chest, and says, "Derek, your house maybe has a lifespan of three more weeks, _if_ that before it collapses in on itself. And seriously, dude, that’s being generous. Undoubtedly generous.”  
  
Derek makes a growly noise in his throat, one that would’ve probably made Stiles cower in submission and fear a few months ago, but now does nothing but annoy him. It’s Derek’s “you’ll listen to me no matter what and you’ll just have to like it” growl, the growl that Derek uses when his wolf is scraping just beneath the surface. Stiles doesn’t know why he’s so hesitant about changing anything–well, he does, he so _does_ and that might actually be the problem, because Stiles _understands_. He knows that Derek has every damn right to be stubborn about this, because this is his childhood house, this is the same place where his family died, and Derek has every reason to want to keep it the way it is. But Stiles still worries, because Derek is Derek and Stiles knows that Derek would probably live in this house the rest of his life, just the way it is, without changing a thing, and while he knows that his boyfriend is a werewolf who's stronger than most and weak to almost none, it still makes him panic. 

 

Because Stiles worries. 

 

About everything; even when he doesn't have to.

 

“I just want you to be safe,” Stiles murmurs, after Derek doesn’t say anything, because that’s really all he wants (and maybe he wants to soften Derek up a bit, too, because he’s  not giving up on this, sentiments aside). “I don’t want you to change anything that you’re not comfortable with changing, Derek,” Stiles says, and it’s true. Stiles doesn’t want Derek to change his house because it would look nicer with the renovations,  because it might make his heart less susceptible to heart failure when he’s walking up Derek’s admittedly shitty stairs, but because he wants Derek to be  _ safe _ .

 

He doesn't even care about the whole drywall-falling-on-his-head thing, not really. He just cares about Derek, and Stiles will sit here until he's blue in the face to make sure that Derek agrees.  


 

Derek seems to physically deflate at that, seems to sink into the mattress with something that Stiles might even call relief. His arms tighten their hold on Stiles, and Stiles knows instantly that he’s won, because this is Derek’s defeated “you’re right and I’m wrong forever” hold that Stiles has grown eerily used to since they’ve evolved from just-casually-sleeping-together to mated-and-bonded-for-always.   
  
“Fine,” Derek says, “Alright. We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”  
  
Stiles doesn’t say anything, but he bites a smile into the skin of Derek’s chest, and when his fingers press into the skin of Derek’s hip, they’re thankful.  
  
*  
  
As it turns out, shopping for curtains is frustrating and hard and Stiles understands now why Derek’s put it off for so long.  
  
They’re in some home improvement store that’s honestly just a sad duplicate of Home Depot, and there’s so many curtain choices in front of him that Stiles’ head feels like it’s about to explode. There’s paisley and plaid and floral; there's even _rainbow_ –Stiles may or may not giggle at imagining Derek’s bedroom decked out in _rainbow curtains_.  
  
“Oh my god,” Stiles groans, “this is like a candy store. Except it’s curtains. _Inedible_ curtains. And shopping for candy is actually fun, whereas I think I might actually rather cut my dick off than spend another minute doing _this_.” Curtain shopping did actually sound fun in theory, but now that he's actually here, it's something that makes him feel like he didn't even take Adderall at all this morning, makes him feel itchy and uncomfortable in his skin; restless.

 

Derek just smirks at him, like he finds Stiles’ disappointment and annoyance amusing, and he probably _does_. Because his boyfriend is stupid and immature and the worst boyfriend ever–only he’s not, and Stiles knows he’s not, knows that Derek is everything that Stiles has ever wanted, everything that Lydia would never be able to give him (because she’s too selfish–though she really isn't–because he’s different than she is in the worst possible way, and he’s finally accepted that there isn’t anything _wrong_ with that). Derek’s attentive and sweet when no one’s looking, is fiercely loyal to those who he actually lets in, and is one of the smartest dudes Stiles has ever met.  
  
So, yeah, Derek is actually kind of awesome. And tells Derek that as much as he can, because something tells him that Derek doesn’t hear it much, that he hasn’t heard it since he gave everything to Kate when his family burned up in flames. He tells him it so Derek _knows_ , knows that all of the time he puts into an obnoxious and somewhat misguided pack isn’t completely a lost cause, tells him it so he can see that disbelieving flush color Derek’s cheeks.  
  
“We’re finishing this,” Derek says.  
  
Stiles sighs, because yeah, they are. He has every intention of finishing this, he just thinks it’s sucks and will spend every possible moment complaining. “I know.”  
  
Derek’s mouth lifts up at the corners, a small twitch that Stiles is used to seeing now, but it still makes his heart flutter in his chest.  
  
“Come on,” Stiles grunts, “Let’s get this over with.”  
  
*  
  
“Derek,” Stiles growls, because he’s been fingering the grey curtains that are ugly and suede and still sort-of “I’m a serial killer”-esque, which is totally something Stiles doesn’t want, for at least twenty minutes now.  
  
That’s what they’re trying to stay the hell away from.  
  
“Get off of the grey,” Stiles says, cautiously, and then peels Derek’s fingers away from it. “It’s still too dark.”  
  
Derek glares. “It’s my house.”  
  
It is Derek’s house, which is why, if forced to admit under extreme torture, Stiles would say that he feels awkward about this. Stiles is still only seventeen, a junior in high school, he doesn’t know _jackshit_ about curtains and what color they should be, or how to tell the difference from a good curtain and a bad one. He doesn’t know anything about home improvement like he likes to think he does, because he’s just a  kid, has always been just a kid. He isn't supposed to be doing something like this, isn't supposed to shop for curtains and paint and drywall, he should be out practicing lacrosse or getting into to trouble, experimenting with drugs and find half-of-a-dead boy in the woods.  
  
Stiles may actually be close to panicking, becaue he's starting to realize just how out of place he is, but then Derek's hands are hot and warm on his back, even through his t-shirt, and it makes Stiles relax. 

 

The funny thing is, Derek doesn’t seem to mind, has never seemed to mind that Stiles is only seventeen (well, there was that whole six month period where there was an admittance of mutual feelings, but nothing was done, because Derek was pretending to still be a good person with regular morals back then, and Stiles was honoring that).  
  
Stiles likes that, though. He likes how Derek doesn’t treat him like a five-year-old, unless Stiles pisses him off considerably or it’s about sex, and given Derek’s previous experiences, it’s not like he exactly  _ blames _ him.  
  
“I feel like this might be MTV show worthy,” Stiles says suddenly, and even at Derek’s exasperated look, adds, “This should be an episode of True Life. True Life: I’m Seventeen and Already Shopping for Curtains Because My Older Boyfriend Is a Moron.”  
  
“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek says, probably trying for menacing but only sounds fond instead.  
  
“Shut up, Derek,” Stiles quips, “It could totally become a thing. A hot thing. A thing that people would watch and make me famous.”  
  
Derek just jostles him over to the checkout, doesn’t even make an attempt at answering that (which is good, actually, because Stiles is witty and amazing and can totally out-bicker him any day) and he doesn’t even notice that he’s sneaked in the grey curtains until they’re halfway to Derek’s house, and by then, it’s not even worth the fight anymore.  
  
*  
  
Stiles will never admit it, but the grey curtains do actually look badass.  
  
But by Derek’s smug smirk he throws in his direction, Stiles is pretty sure Derek knows it anyway.

 

Whatever. It's not like Stiles is too bothered by it.  


**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Unkle Cracker's "Smile"


End file.
